To Kill A Certain Man
by Silberias
Summary: Two years ago, Sasuke kidnapped Sakura and tried to revive his clan through her. Now Itachi must bear the weight of Sasuke's sins as he is told the story by Kakashi, who plans to kill him if he so much as looks at Sakura. M for rape, violence, no lemon.
1. Chapter 1

This idea was born in my head like...a year ago. It involved Deidara back then, but this works far better. I think this is like the darkest thing I might have ever written, fanfic or original. Also, Keiji means, according to a nifty Japanese names database, "respectful second son." The bunny didn't tell me what Dear Sasuke wanted the kid named, only what Sakura and Kakashi call him. If you don't pick up on it, Kakashi is spitting angry because he feels powerless in this situation, and has for a long time. Shinobi feeling powerless is not something I feel that they generally like.

Enjoy...?

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When the village had finally taken him back, an irate Hatake Kakashi was waiting for him. The ANBU he'd known as Hound had been left with too many broken pieces to clean up, and he had about had it with stupid Uchihas. Itachi didn't know if he should sympathize until the Godaime had forced Kakashi to take him into his home—the Uchiha district having been demolished, and some shinobi not quite trusting of the true last Uchiha. Kakashi was the safest bet for Itachi's safety, and unfortunately Kakashi knew it. As they sprinted over the rooftops, Itachi could only wonder what had happened to make Kakashi loath him in such a manner. Surely it hadn't been the subjection to the nightmare realm? He'd explained why he'd had to do that _within_ that place—for pretenses. He hoped Kakashi understood.

The reason for Kakashi's hatred was revealed almost as soon as the two of them stepped through the doorway to Kakashi's home. Two children, one of around six with silver hair and one of around two with jet black Uchiha hair, were literally attached to the apron of the pink haired girl Sasuke had been teamed with so many years ago. The hate in Kakashi's eyes was for the name Uchiha rather than for Itachi himself.

When the woman, obviously married to Kakashi, took the two kids to bed later on, Itachi was left alone with Kakashi for the first time since arriving home to the village. He didn't press for what had happened, knowing from the unspoken conversation between Kakashi and his wife that Kakashi was about to reveal that information. The woman was going to stay out of the room for this, whatever it was.

"He _raped_ her, Itachi, he kidnapped her on her way back from a mission. All there was for the team to find was a note, saying she was being kept alive, not to worry _too_ much. She was missing for eleven months, and when she fought her way home, she was like _that. _She _had_ that_._ There was this little monster which had come out of her, a monster I didn't remember putting into her. I went missing. I went missing for three months, and when I found him, I murdered him for it. I made your brother suffer, Itachi-kun, I used Kamui to rip his limbs from him, I stuck him with enough senbon to make a Rain shinobi proud, and then I ripped his eyes out with my own hands," there was a mad gleam to Kakashi's eye as he recited how he killed Sasuke for revenge. His body exuded a tense anger which begged for a violent release—deep frustration at the thought of being unable to protect his wife.

"The real reason I'm being kept alive is to champion the child and teach him to use the Sharingan when it manifests, then?"

"Oh no, they'd still keep you alive. Assign you as a mission to a willing kunoichi—but because of Sasuke they don't need to. You've already got a stem of a clan to work from, you've got time to find your own woman while Keiji grows up," the madness flares in Itachi's old comrade's eye, "you are, however, never to look at Sakura. If I catch you at it, I'll murder you damn the consequences. No Uchiha besides Keiji is ever going to touch her or look at her, _ever_ again."

Itachi believed him. This was the way that most shinobi reacted to such events, because when shinobi had family to defend, they were at their most powerful. The next day, when he emerged from the small guest room of Kakashi's home, he kept his eyes firmly closed. He was good enough to not run into anything or embarrass himself, and, with the muttered cursing he'd been privy to the whole night and the pacing he'd heard in the living room, it was just safer that way. If Kakashi still felt this way almost a year after taking his revenge, Sasuke's death hadn't taken _nearly_ long enough, and that information was something to be wary of as Itachi tried to restart his life as a shinobi of the Leaf.

He wondered what Sasuke might have named the boy, because "Keiji" was certainly something the girl and Kakashi had decided on—Sasuke certainly wouldn't have chosen to name his son "respectful second son," not after being named something as flashy as "warrior."

When the woman set a plate down in front of him, Itachi made very sure to not even let her hand brush his sleeve—Kakashi was at his left, radiating a killing intent meant only for him, for he was the real reason Sasuke had felt he needed to revive his clan.

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	2. Chapter 2

So this is because I got a few reviews which were really excited to hear the rest of the story. Again, I don't think I've ever put pen to paper or finger to key with something this dark. Ever.

With that in mind, this is rated M not for lemony goodness but for rape, violence, and Stockholm Syndrome (called something different here, because I'm nerdy like that). These aren't things to be taken lightly, which is why I'm still scratching my head that this came out of _my_ brain. And "ichiban" means like "the first" or "number one," or somesuch. I'm too lazy to look it up now.

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She was on watch when he'd appeared in front of her and conked her on the head. It was amazing that he managed to catch her before she fell to the forest floor into her team's camp, but perhaps it wasn't—his stats in the Bingo book listed him as more agile than even Rock Lee. The last thing she saw before she fully lost consciousness was a pale face with ruby red eyes.

She was slow to regain consciousness, which was worrying to her in her fevered periods of wakefulness—it meant he was drugging _something_. Sakura couldn't tell if it was the water or the food, but rather suspected the water. It was an easier medium to work with for keeping someone sedated, because hunger strikes could go on for weeks—even shinobi could only last a matter of days without water.

One morning she woke to only mild dizziness, and tested her luck by sitting up—her world spun for a good long minute before up was really up again and right and left were really such. She was in a dark room, left on a thin futon. Her Jounin jacket was gone, as were her uniform pants and the lucky shirt she'd teasingly stolen from Kakashi before going on her mission—_Kakashi_. He would be so worried, all alone with little Toshiaki, and she had been _stolen_ from her mission by Uchiha Sasuke. For a long time she sat in the dim little room, not daring to move from the futon she'd been left on. She didn't faint until Sasuke had come into the room bearing light, light by which she saw the bruises on her arms and hips, light by which she knew what he'd done to her while unconscious, and what he was obviously planning on doing.

She was weak from whatever he'd been feeding her, and from her lack of training or exercise, so when he forced himself on her she didn't waste her strength in resisting—that strength was best saved for planning an escape, to figure out what opportunity she had to look out for. She retreated back into her own mind, separating her consciousness yet again into Sakura and Inner Sakura—creating a place where she could rail against him, scream in fury and pain and fear, a place where he heard none of that and only her whimpers as he took and did what he wanted. It was only a matter of weeks before his primary objective was attained—when she'd found out she was pregnant, and it couldn't have been Kakashi's, she'd told him immediately. Yelled it more like as she inched away from him as he came into the room he kept her in, it was a vain attempt to get him to leave her alone for even one night.

In her pre-Jounin kunoichi classes the instructor had advised that she think of someone she loved or wanted when either captured or on a "women's mission," but Sakura found she just _couldn't_. The man she loved, the one who loved her, would never think of doing this to her. And she couldn't tarnish him in her own mind by pretending that he would, either. So instead she focused herself completely that this was _Sasuke_ and that she was going to _kill_ him when she got out of this.

Because she _was_ going to get out of this. Her plan had occurred as she gently healed her split lip the day after she'd told Sasuke that he wasn't going to touch her anymore, that he'd gotten what he wanted from her. He wanted _her_. He wanted Sakura, to cook and clean for him, to bandage him up after his battles, to have his children. Never mind the fact that she'd given up on him a decade ago, or that she'd fallen in love, gotten married, and did all that stuff for _another_ man. Sasuke reasoned that she'd only been lonely, that now she was here with him and they could start again.

So Sakura, kept sane by Inner Sakura who prowled around constantly haranguing Sasuke behind his back, began to act how he wanted her to. With her double personality she was able to begin faking the Beloved Captive syndrome, making Sasuke feel that he was indeed right, she had been lonely without him—and now she had him and was starting to see things his way. Sakura wasn't sure she would be able to make it, but for the little life inside her she had to—she couldn't let Sasuke raise a child, not her child at least.

Sasuke's biggest mistake was letting her prepare meals for him after about six months. He liked to see her standing at the stove, her hair long and begraggled—he only allowed her to bathe once a week, that way she had an easily tracked scent—with steaming pots and pans in front of her. His favorite thing, and Inner Sakura's _least_ favorite, was to come up behind her and hold her rapidly expanding stomach. Sakura let him—eventually leaning back into his embrace. It was all an act.

It was his biggest mistake because about a month after she'd had the baby—Sasuke named him Ichiban, which wasn't any sort of name at all—Sakura poisoned his food.

Well, poisoning was a little strong of a concept—it was a strong sedative she'd learned how to make from Tsunade. She'd never taught it to Shizune because Shizune wouldn't have known when to use it, but Tsunade _did_ teach it to Sakura. Perhaps she'd foreseen something like this happening, and tried to do damage control early on. She'd forcefully told Sakura that she was only to construct this sedative when she didn't mind killing who it was used on—it was a bit of a hit or miss whether the target ever recovered consciousness, regardless of if they received medical treatment. That meant it was out the window for regular missions, but Sakura felt that in this situation her life and the life of the baby's were worth more than possible future revenge.

The sedative was constructed from common ingredients in dinner food—anything found in miso, gyouza, or teriyaki sauce was fair game. It was only activated when a little foreign chakra was introduced to the system.

And Sasuke had let her begin giving him chakra-infused massages _months_ ago.

Dinner had started out quiet, Sasuke never was very conversational, and he liked it when she didn't talk very much. She was so much less annoying now than she was when she was twelve—motherhood had really changed her, he liked to say. The little baby, for Sakura refused to call him "Ichiban," sat in Sakura's lap and gurgled happily. To Inner Sakura it was the height of embarrassment, but Sasuke liked to watch her breastfeed the baby after they'd had their own dinner—while she found it deeply disturbing. At home, in Konoha, Kakashi didn't mind when she fed Toshiaki around him, but he didn't make her sit down and let him watch.

Once that mortifying chore was over, Inner Sakura started giggling irrationally inside Sakura's head—Sasuke smiled at her, trusting his demure little Sakura, letting her kneel down behind him. It took not even a zap of chakra before he crumpled. Sakura hadn't wanted to deal with him, fussing through some half-conscious state, so she'd laced his food with as many mini-toxins as there were to lace. She was on a special diet to regain her figure, but he had to stay strong to protect his family, didn't he?

She'd beaten his unconscious body to a bloody pulp before grabbing the bag she'd stashed inside the oven, strapping the baby to her front, and running for her life. Hopefully Uchiha Sasuke was dead, as dead as Death could make anyone dead.

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	3. Chapter 3

So because I'm one of those people who watches Kill Bill, or Inglourious Basterds, or V for Vendetta or Pan's Labyrinth and doesn't look away for the bloody bits, there are going to actually be five chapters to this. Next chapter is Kakashi's revenge, and the chapter after that is another look at things from Itachi's POV.

This chapter is going to be pretty vanilla compared to that methinks. Again, I dunno where this is coming from outta my brain, I really don't write things this dark. *oh the lies*

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Horrible things, he was going to do _horrible_ things to the Uchiha when he got his hands on him. Sakura hadn't stopped crying since she'd gotten back to the village, and Kakashi couldn't quite tell if her tears were tears of sadness or joy, he just knew that nothing he did could get them to stop. Tsunade had forcibly admitted Sakura to the hospital, as well as the little bundle of Uchiha she'd brought with her. Kakashi hadn't seen the mutant yet, but was sure he would be subjected to it soon enough.

She was mostly well fed, and though her hair didn't shine like it had nearly a year ago, the blood on her hands and clothing wasn't her own. Kakashi took comfort in the small things. Such as the fact that he was the only one she allowed to touch her. Tsunade had told him as she briefed him on the way to the hospital that Sakura might not want him to touch her at all for weeks, maybe months, and that he would have to support her as she recovered mentally. But she'd flown into his arms the second she'd seen him, weeping inconsolably, and it was with difficulty that he got both of them propped up on the hospital bed. Her hiccupping sobs did horrible things to something deep within him, and that _something_ was coming to a rolling boil in Kakashi's head.

Tsunade had meant for him to visit Sakura and then go to see the infant she'd returned with and then go home, but it had been obvious to her that Sakura was _not_ letting Kakashi go anytime in the near future. So the next morning she'd returned to Sakura's room with the kid, finding the Hatakes curled up where she'd left them. Kakashi was awake, he'd stayed up all night just to run his hands over Sakura's back and smell her hair and skin, but Sakura was asleep. The momentary, but clearly agonized, twist to Tsunade's mouth told him everything he needed to know about the black haired little baby in her arms. And the kid was _little_—even Toshiaki, who had been only six pounds at birth, was bigger at a few months than this baby.

"She wasn't rational when she first got here, so I don't know what happened exactly. I'm hoping that once she's calmed down she can relate her last year to us. But if the note her team found and this little guy's black hair are anything to go by, I think it's pretty obvious." Kakashi squeezed his eyes shut at her words, _it was pretty obvious_ that his former student, the one he had once thought would somehow redeem his past, had kidnapped and raped his wife, his Sakura. The fact that she was able to escape showed the arrogance Kakashi had tried to curb more than a decade ago, arrogance which had only grown as the years passed. Arrogance which, according to reports coming in from Grass country, Sakura hadn't managed to outright murder the night she escaped.

"In a few months, Hokage-sama, I will need some leave. I will be _visiting_ an old acquaintance of mine, and I'm not sure how long I will be gone." Tsunade huffed and sat at the chair by the window, stroking the baby's black hair. _Black_ hair, not silver like Toshiaki's little Hatake mane. Kakashi resisted making a fist, only holding Sakura tighter.

"You know I can't let you go without knowing when you will come back. Give me a timeline, at least, something I can sign. I want that bastard to pay, and if I have to sacrifice your capabilities for a few months then I will gladly do it. But," she looked up from the little monster in her arms, "you have to stay long enough to get Sakura on the road to recovery. We can only guess at what she's gone through."

For the rest of the morning the Hokage sat in her chair by the window, holding the little Uchiha baby, and quietly conversing with Kakashi. Sakura slept on, unawares. Tsunade told him Sakura might try to rush into "recovery," or "being better," for him, that he was to be on the lookout for such things, that it would be typical of her to try to be strong rather than heal. Kakashi could only nod, knowing that healers could see all injuries save for their own.

Both he and Tsunade knew Sakura when awoke even though she tried to pretend, later on in the day. Her breathing was too controlled, too regulated for sleep. Kakashi consciously loosened his arms from around her, to let her know that she could escape him if she so wanted. It hurt to do it, when all he wanted to do was crush her to him and never let her go, but he did.

"Sasuke called him Ichiban. I don't call him that." Tsunade's brown eyes calmly surveyed her apprentice's too-still form before sliding back to the infant in her arms. Sakura's breath was warm on his chest as it seeped through his shirt, and Kakashi squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling. Obito's tears soaked into his hitai-ate, utterly concealed save for the salty smell.

"What do you call him, Sakura?" The Hokage's words were soft, measured.

"Couldn't entertain thoughts like that. I couldn't know if I was going to be able to escape, so I never let myself name him. And besides, shouldn't you discuss the names of your children with your husband?" Sakura's voice stayed strong until the last word, where she dissolved into sobbing, curling closer to Kakashi in a bid for comfort. Going against his earlier vow to give her the freedom and space she needed, Kakashi wrapped himself around her, trying to completely surround her and leave none of her exposed to the open air.

Tsunade's words echoed in his mind, that he was not to go looking for Uchiha Sasuke until Hatake Sakura was on the road to recovery. He could sense that it was going to be a long road.

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They brought her home after two days, after her system had been cleared of the lingering drugs which Sasuke had been feeding her. Kakashi had quietly explained to Toshiaki that while Mom was back, she was going to be sad sometimes, that she was going to cry sometimes, or scream, or just be really quiet. It had been heartbreaking to hold his son after telling him that she was back, but only in body—Sakura might not be Sakura anymore. It had broken both of them when she'd been kidnapped—Kakashi because he'd lost half of himself, and Toshiaki because he was only three, he needed his Kaa-san even more than Kakashi needed Sakura. To try to explain to a three year old why Mom was gone, why she might never come back, that alone had almost made Kakashi abandon the village to pursue, find, and murder Sasuke and bring Sakura home.

Kakashi also had to explain to his son that Toshiaki had a little brother, and that for now they were all just going to call him Baby. He was horrified, deep inside where those horrible things were already at far more than an angry simmer, that he was adopting Sasuke's son, but he pushed past it for Sakura. Because she wouldn't hear of the child being given up for adoption—she'd saved the boy as well as herself, and she was _not_ going to let that year of hell be for nothing. Tsunade hadn't made any noises to the contrary, and Kakashi found himself following her lead in a lot of the situations he now faced with his wife.

Sakura's first night at home, however, was not a time when he could just mime what Tsunade said and did. He had to figure it out for himself. Well, he and Sakura did.

He caught himself going into their bedroom after putting Toshiaki and the demon spawn to bed, and he must have looked funny freezing like he did halfway through the door—one foot halfway through a step, the other poised to land—because Sakura burst out giggling, controlling how loud she laughed because they'd _just_ gotten Toshiaki to let go of her and go to bed.

"Kakashi, get in there, go on," she managed through her giggle-fit. Kakashi wasn't comforted by the mirthful reaction, but he did as she said. Even if they were induced by hysteria, he was glad to see her face lit with smiles. It was awkward when she finally followed him in, hugging herself as she took in the sight of their shared bedroom for the first time in almost a year. He didn't know what to do, and it scared him.

"Sakura, I can sleep in the living room, or in the kids' room—if you want. I went for a year without you, I think I can manage a few months," he tried to be light with his words, but they came out weird, his voice pushed high by stress and fear. To his great relief, she smiled softly before hugging him tightly, her face buried in his chest.

"No, I want you near, right here. So that you're real." _Real?_ Kakashi didn't need Tsunade's warnings and briefings to have alarm bells ringing in his head.

"Sakura, you—" he didn't get to finish because her grip on him became fierce, a good indication to be quiet and get that way fast.

"No, Kakashi. I never imagined you there. Because you wouldn't do to me what he was doing to me. And I didn't sit around waiting for you to rescue me either—I wanted you to, but I didn't let that become my primary plan. But I wanted you there, I wanted you to hold me, it was a physical ache sometimes. So now, I'm home. And I want you to hold me, and if I have to hit you to get you to do that, then I will." Kakashi let the tension drain out of his form, moving to keep her close.

It took six months for her to let him make love to her, and even then he let her do the workings, just laying back and letting her control things. He didn't last long, because they were breaking a dry-spell for him of nearly eighteen months, but that was fine with Sakura. She had simply wanted to remember the feeling of him sliding home within her. It was another month and a half, however, before she let him top. The week after that, her psychiatrist deemed her fit to begin taking out of village missions once again. That same day Kakashi applied to Tsunade for "leave," after asking Sakura if it was okay that he brutally murdered little Keiji's father.

They'd chosen the name Keiji to reinforce the fact that he was part of their family. He _was_ their second son, regardless of the fact that Kakashi didn't father him. It was after four months, when the kid allowed himself to be comforted by Kakashi, that Kakashi no longer referred to Keiji as "demon spawn," in his head. Hopefully Keiji would understand, when he was old enough, that, even though he looked like neither of his parents, he was their son.

Sakura hadn't given Kakashi permission to hunt Sasuke down, but she did give him explicit directions to come home to her alive—he was more important to her than revenge. Kakashi left the village a few days later, a wry twist to his mouth beneath his mask. So much for not letting revenge consume oneself.

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	4. Chapter 4

So I actually had help with this. A LOT of help. My roommate 'River' helped with three scenes which I'd gotten myself stuck on. Literally right when I would be about to close the document and say "Well, I'll try to write it tomorrow," she'd send me these amazing little snippets. So yeah. I'd say half of this would have to be credited to her-I wish I could make sentences flow the way she gets them to flow. Also: 328 days is just around eleven months. Ish.

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"I copied something, Sasuke, before I left Konoha. Actually, a few things. But all in good time. First, I want you to become acquainted with my new favorite—and you get three guesses as to what it is. The first two don't count." Kakashi hadn't spent his time waiting for Sakura just twiddling his thumbs. He had had a year where he was only fit for in-village duties, he was far too entrenched in emotional issues to be allowed on foreign missions, and he also had to take care of his son. It had taken about two and a half months to develop the worst case of cabin fever he'd ever experienced. So, he'd studied under Tsunade, learning medical ninjutsu which could be used for ill just as easily as for good. She'd only asked him once why he needed to learn such things as chakra scalpels and heart-starting (and stopping) jutsu—_"For Sakura."_

Sasuke's screams of agony let Kakashi drift back to how he'd gotten his hands on the young man. The poison Sakura had given him left him moving slower than normal—still quite fast, but nothing which Kakashi couldn't handle—and the beating she'd given him before she'd fled had permanently lamed him. Kakashi had been as silent as Death itself as he'd tailed Sasuke through Bird Country and finally into Cloud. Sasuke hadn't noticed his stalker, and Kakashi comforted himself that he was still the most motivated shinobi in Konoha—Kakashi was motivated to conceal his presence until the last possible moment.

Kakashi rolled open his weapons scroll, summoning a handful of senbon from their storage in the ether, and pinned Sasuke so the Uchiha was spread-eagled on the floor of the cave Kakashi had found a day or so back. Three needles in each arm, seven needles for each leg, and two needles in the man's torso, deeply embedded to block chakra flow. Kakashi made sure to not nick too many vital organs, he wanted his captive alive for eleven days—eleven days of hell for eleven months of it.

_Twenty two_, Kakashi committed the number to memory. He had to balance torture with time, he was only giving himself eleven days to inflict over three hundred separate and excruciatingly painful wounds. And just with disabling his target he'd used up twenty two of his self-allotted three hundred twenty eight.

"You know, Sasuke," Kakashi said conversationally, once again in the present, as he sliced around inside the Uchiha's foot with a kunai (_twenty three)_, "I spent a year working in the torture and interrogation unit of ANBU. They said I needed a break from straight assassination missions. I learned how to keep a man alive indefinitely, no matter his mental or physical state. Morino Ibiki taught me how to make a man think he's free, or dead, and then take away that freedom inch by inch," Kakashi removed the kunai, letting Sasuke breathe freely for a moment. If not for the inability to move, Kakashi was sure Sasuke might have tried to kick at him.

"And I learned that two men only really understand one another after about three or four days. Sure by the end of today you'll be sobbing for mercy, and begging me for anything save for pain, but we won't understand one another. It takes time to build a relationship, Sasuke-kun, and between now and this evening we won't be even close to understanding one another. Tomorrow afternoon you'll have forgotten your promises to me, as well as the information you'll have given me in an effort to just make it _stop_. Perhaps by dawn of the third day I'll know what motivates you, what keeps you going. I can usually get people to forgive me for what I'm doing by that evening. What do you think, Sasuke-kun? Do you think your little avenger's heart can forgive your old sensei?" Kakashi molded chakra to his fingertips and smiled as he felt the tendon snap apart between them. He grinned, his eye hot as he clung barely to sanity, at the resultant scream.

"No? Well, like I said. The day after tomorrow you'll understand me on the same deep level as I'll understand you. You'll know why I'm doing this, and I'll know why you violated my wife. And by day four, I'll be able to believe anything that comes out of your mouth." Kakashi gave his captive credit—he'd managed to control his screams, biting his lip to stay silent. He'd allow the young man that much, as long as he didn't try to swallow his own tongue or anything. Kakashi didn't _want_ to cut out the boy's tongue this early in the game, but he also didn't want to let Sasuke get out of his punishment.

"And can you imagine how well you'll know me by then Sasuke-kun? By this evening you won't have a true idea of why I'm ripping you to pieces. And even tomorrow afternoon, you won't really remember, you'll have forced yourself to forget the depths of your pain, as well as the depths of your evil." Kakashi debated for a moment whether or not he should sever the other tendon or start ripping out fingernails. He went with the fingernails—the boy was probably starting to block out the pain coming from his foot and leg.

"But eventually, my dear little student, you'll wise up. You will know on the third day what horrible things you created when you dared to look at my wife, you'll understand the horrible things you've brought out in _me_. You will know, then, that there will be no forgiving for you. Because for all the time that good things may take, truly horrible things take their own time as well."

Kakashi slept for a few hours that night, and woke up before the sun rose. He collected water from a stream several miles to the west, and he spent the trip back humming as he stirred salt into the bucket. Sasuke needed to not fall to infection over the next week and a half, and plain salt-water was one of the better ways Kakashi had found of doing that. It wasn't something anybody had ever liked doing in torture and interrogation, but it had always been necessary, cleaning the wounds inflicted. Gangrene was a hard medium to control, septicemia a difficult beast to tame into an interrogation method.

Today Sasuke was going to forget all of yesterday, all of the lies he'd fed Kakashi, all of the half truths. Today was where all of the impurities were burned out of him, so that tomorrow the two of them could have a real heart-to-heart. Because just attacking Sasuke and telling him of all his wrongs wouldn't do the trick, because Sasuke wouldn't have the time to internalize and savor the pain he'd brought upon Kakashi's small family. Yesterday he'd inflicted forty three of his three hundred twenty eight wounds, taken revenge for a month and a half of Sakura's captivity. He would need to pace himself today.

* * *

It was just after dawn of the fifth day. Somewhere inside he was proud of himself for going against Kakashi's single minded torture for that long, but that didn't mean Sasuke had saved himself from anything. He trembled in pain, pain and fear, for he had seen much in the eyes of others, both friend and foe. Hatred, terror, agony, he remembered putting those in the eyes of opponents. Insanity and confidence he had seen burning bright in the eyes of enemies and allies alike.

But this, this he had never faced...There was a slow boil deep behind the mismatched eyes of his first mentor. A deep, patient hatred that would not give way to recklessness because it had been well trained, just like the rest of the slouching blood speckled shinobi in front of him. He'd only ever seen glimpses—at the memorial stone, when Naruto was deeply injured, or when Sakura was worried or scared. Yes, Sasuke had caught glimpses of a patient insanity prowling around inside of Kakashi's head. There was no screaming descent into madness, just a smooth heating, like a pot of water being brought to a rolling boil. Sasuke closed his eyes then because he knew, with a chilling certainty, that this patient insanity in his teacher was going to kill him, and when it did, he would be begging for death.

* * *

A quick slice through the liver that morning was the deathblow, but that was Kakashi's only mercy. On the tenth day, yesterday, he'd dug his fingers into Sasuke's eye sockets and did away with the young man's Sharingan forever more. If by some miracle someone stopped Kakashi or Sasuke escaped, he would be blind and without aid. Not to mention the crippling injuries he lived with because of Sakura, or the ones Kakashi had given him during their time spent together.

A slight movement came on the edge of camp later that afternoon of the day Sasuke died. There were no loud noises, no outbursts, for Naruto truly had, Kakashi reflected, grown into the shinobi he was meant to be. At Kakashi's beckoning, a still faced Naruto slunk into the entrance of the cave Kakashi had been spending his days in and stared at the mess that had been his friend and teammate. Kakashi refused to be apologetic in his tone as he cleaned his weapons and put them away with efficiency.

"You are too late to help either him or me, I'm afraid." Too late to save Sasuke, or Kakashi, or just too late to help Kakashi exact revenge. Sakura was as dear as a sister to Naruto.

The blonde raised his eyes heavenwards, not looking at Kakashi, and sighed.

"This was something you needed to do. I know that."he murmured, "but I couldn't stop myself from seeing him dead with my own eyes. Tsunade-baa-chan said there was no way you'd bring him back to the village, not even his dead body. So when I got back from my mission last month I headed out after you. I had to see."

Kakashi stood silently, his bags now packed, and contemplated, along with Naruto, the blood seeping across the stone floor of the cave, slithering out into the strong light of the late afternoon sun. Really, this madness deep inside him didn't know how to clean up, Kakashi was usually better about these things. He needn't have worried. Demon chakra flitted out in controlled tendrils from Naruto, and nearly instantly the corpse before them went up in unnatural flames. Both men watched until there was nothing left, and then they leaped into the treetops, Konoha-bound.

It was time to go home, after two and a half months of grueling searching and the taking of his revenge, it was time to go home.

* * *

It had taken Kakashi two weeks to get home but he was there, there in front of _his_ house, listening to the faint voice of _his_ wife, and _his_ children inside. He took a moment then, to relax and let the previous months work their way into him and settle into his bones. There was no regret, but no elation either that the bastard Uchiha was dead. It was just a fact, one more to be added to the deep horrible thing that lived deep within Kakashi now. The sky was blue, trees were green and his once student had been tortured to death by his hand. Life was good, made excellent by the fact that he would never have to see an Uchiha ever again—never mind the fact that one of his sons was the spitting image _of_ an Uchiha. Keiji wasn't Uchiha, he was Hatake.

The opening of the door in front of him removed him from his distracted introspection and in it stood his wife. Kakashi didn't move, he just looked at her, took her in as she came forward to him and slid off the hitai-ate which concealed a third of his face, as well as his blood speckled black mask. She searched his eyes for several long seconds, neither of them moving. Kakashi hid nothing in his expression, for this was his wife, his reason. She smiled then and pulled him down to kiss her deeply, dragging him into the house. He had come home alive, and assured her that never again would an Uchiha be close enough to harm her.

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	5. Chapter 5

So this is the last chapter of To Kill A Certain Man. This is much MUCH lighter than the middle three, and even lighter than the first chapter. So yeah. Thank you all for your lovely reviews-very shiny!

Enjoy!

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Itachi didn't tiptoe around the house, but he _did_ make sure to have at least four feet of distance between himself and Kakashi's wife at all times. Kakashi had told him halfway through breakfast that the food he was eating was a potential poison, but to not worry over-much about it. It required foreign chakra mingled with it to activate, and would be just about out of his system by lunchtime. The woman, Sakura, had seemingly swatted Kakashi for his words, muttering that it was a _sedative_, not a poison. Itachi kept his eyes shut throughout their exchange, Kakashi's threat still echoing in his mind.

He remembered as a young child standing in awe of the accomplishments of this particular shinobi—Kakashi had led a mission Itachi had been on when he'd been young. The then-fifteen year old Jounin had been ruthless and efficient, as well as measured and fair. Itachi had been eight, just having learned to activate and control his Sharingan, and could only stand in awe of the older shinobi. One of his older teammates had told him that Kakashi had been promoted to Chuunin before he was Itachi's age.

And after Konoha had released information on Sasuke's death in it's international bingo book, Itachi again reflected that Kakashi was a man to be reckoned with. If he wanted to gamble with his own life, he could, but Kakashi was more than able to call any bluff Itachi might make. So, Itachi didn't make any bluffs and kept his eyes closed and his mouth shut. Only when he was in the bathroom, with the door closed and locked (not that that meant much in a house of shinobi) or in the room they'd given him did he open his eyes. And he stayed quiet. Kakashi moved around the house like a caged and starved animal—it was palpable how much he wanted to do violence to Itachi, even in a house with two young children.

It was a few months after he'd found his own place that Itachi saw Hatake Sakura for the second time. He was at the market, just after dawn when few shinobi were in the village. Day missions were assigned before the sun lit the horizon, and shinobi typically left before the sun hit the treetops, and long missions were assigned at eight AM. Just after dawn was when the fewest shinobi were around, and Itachi preferred minimizing the stares he got.

People _knew_ now that he'd been ordered to kill his family to prevent a coup against the government. Shinobi could understand this, in theory, and were working through their issues to integrate him into the village again. It was hard for them, however. Civilians, the few who recognized him, gave him an even wider berth than they did Kakashi. Civilians only understood that he was on their side this time, and that "hey, shinobi like to be alone, right?" Just after dawn was the best time to avoid both groups.

He saw Sakura, not a glimpse of pink hair out of the corner of his eye, but rather the crowds parted and there she stood with her two children. The older boy stood with his hand in hers, seemingly glued to her side as he held a bag of her purchases in the other. The black haired child was perched on her hip sucking his thumb. He was the spitting image of Sasuke at that age and for a moment Itachi was struck with a pang of incredible loneliness and loss. Some days he woke up just _wanting_ his warm mother, or his taciturn father, or his ridiculously lovable six year old brother.

The thought of his brother startled him, however, and the pang of loneliness was gone half an instant later as Itachi realized that Kakashi might have planted Sakura and those kids to trap Itachi into looking at her, so that Kakashi would have good reason to kill him. He quickly averted his eyes and escaped the scene, calmly going through his prayers to the death god for a death a little less painful than Sasuke's.

Because he woke up the next morning he could only breathe a sigh of relief that Kakashi hadn't seen him—he might have been on a day mission, then—and that he was able to live another day. Another day as a Konoha shinobi, another day as the last Uchiha. Tsunade had told him that he _should_ start looking for a wife before she _ordered_ him to look, because she didn't want to put all her bets on Sasuke's brat—"I have bad luck with betting," she'd told him simply. While years ago she'd been willing to let the Sharingan escape the village, now that it was back she intended to keep it.

For the next eight years Itachi lived his life as best he could, as maimed as it was. Tsunade had found a civilian woman for him after a year of his own "lackluster" search—well, she'd introduced the two of them and they'd agreed that a life together was better than a life alone—and within two years he had a little daughter who his wife named Chouko because of the eyelashes the little girl had had shortly after her birth. Fukiko teased him sometimes that his eyelashes were as long as butterfly wings—and when their daughter seemingly inherited his looks, she'd named her Butterfly Child just to reinforce the idea.

It was shortly after Chouko's sixth birthday that Kakashi had taken him aside in the missions room—Keiji's Sharingan had manifested during a home training exercise, and the ten year old was beside himself with terror, his eight year old younger brother in no better shape. They'd been sparring when Keiji had suddenly dropped to the ground, yelling and clutching his forehead and eyes. Itachi could figure out from the context that Kaname, the eight year old, had managed to pry Keiji's hands from his face and been massively traumatized by his brother's blood-red eyes.

The duty for which Itachi had been originally kept alive had finally presented itself, and it was a good thing—because it was the first time in almost two decades where Itachi hadn't felt killing intent rolling off of Kakashi. He could only hope that the man, who by all accounts barely clung to sanity most days, had relaxed off of the threat to kill him if he ever laid eyes on Sakura. Itachi had diligently obeyed Kakashi's wishes for nearly a decade, so hopefully trying to pry a distraught ten year old out of a distraught mother's arms was something he could get away with.

* * *

Kakashi only broke his arm before Sakura made him stop and promise not to inflict physical or emotional damage on their son's new tutor. Itachi would consider it a win, in his book, for the rest of his life—now extended by decades because of Sakura's good-will.

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	6. Chapter 6

Because this story came back and told me it wasn't done being told. From Keiji's POV, because everyone else has found peace already.

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Keiji was promoted into classified file work at the age of twenty. His brutal code of honor, beaten into him by his Genin sensei Uchiha Itachi, was what got him the job. Shinobi needed to understand the gravity of what they tended, of what they were trusted with, when they were allowed into the underground vaults. The vaults desperately wanted someone with a Sharingan as a transcriptionist, and his mother had told him "a foot in the door is a foot in the door, son," and his father had "hmm'd" in agreement over a mission report he was reviewing (Uncle Naruto had tricked him into retirement from active duty a few years ago), and Kaname had questioned Keiji endlessly about how cool it would be to work in a classified section of the government without being in ANBU.

The reason the vaults were demanding someone with a Sharingan was because they wanted to minimize the number of copied documents in their stores, and they needed someone who wouldn't abandon the village. Copies of documents had a horrible habit of finding their way into enemy hands, and only the Sharingan could read over a document, destroy it, and copy it back down word for word. Keiji was just the man for the job.

It was at nearly the end of a long shift of doing this (working through the Aburame family documents), that a co-worker spilled tea all over the document he was transcribing. As he tried to mop up the liquid as well as preserve the delicate ink on the page—one mission report of many of a long-dead Aburame clan head—the older man had laughed softly at himself.

"I bet they'll put that in my file, even if I don't report it." Keiji hadn't _meant_ to spare the man a curious glance, but he'd noticed the Hatake boy's interest immediately. His grin grew wider, and Keiji directed more attention to him—Sensei told him almost a decade ago, while shooting a sly look over at Uncle Naruto, that those who go into battle grinning are the ones to watch out for, they are the ones who do unpredictable things. To which Uncle Naruto responded by stealing all the explosive tags out of Sensei's weapon's pouch without him knowing it.

The sterile white light of the transcription room threw all depth out of the man's face, making him look positively dreadful. Keiji resisted looking away from that disturbing face, it would seem rude to look away.

"Go ahead, kid, ask." Keiji stared a moment longer before opening his mouth.

"What file?" At this the grin turned feral and harsh giggling erupted in the room, startling Keiji so much that he nearly jumped out of his seat. He endured the sound for another minute or so before his companion could draw enough breath to speak again. His face was red from mirth, and his eyes were full of tears from how hard he'd been laughing.

"Don't you know? They keep a file on every shinobi or child of shinobi until that person's death. I have one, you have one, your parents have 'em too. Come on, you read this crap every day and don't think that you have one too? You should go read it kid, it's hilarious what some of those ANBU types think matters enough to write down. One entry in mine, from a few years ago, was something about what songs I skip on CDs, and a meditation on why I might be doing that. Pure comedy, Hatake, you should really go read yours, I bet with your stick in the mud Sensei you've got loads of funny ones."

Keiji had not yet been required to review any personal files, and hadn't even thought that one as young as him would have one of any standing. He was pretty duty-oriented, and without a reason to go into that department he hadn't ever done so. He had tried to shove the curiosity from his mind for the rest of his shift, but as he was organizing papers after his coworker had left, Keiji shot tiny glances over at the personal records department. It wouldn't hurt, the man had said, the ANBU just wrote it down later on that so-and-so had had the chance to review their file at their leisure on such-and-such date, and everyone left it at that. It wasn't hurting anything, and then Keiji wouldn't be laughed at tomorrow by his buddy.

There were very few scrolls in the Hatake block. Only four generations of Hatake had lived in Konoha—Hatake Mikio, his son Hatake Sakumo, his son Hatake Kakashi, his wife Hatake Sakura, and their children Hatake Toshiaki, Hatake Keiji, and Hatake Kaname. Keiji reached for his own and quickly unrolled it, not expecting much. At the second line his knees went out from under him and he tumbled in a semi-organized mess to the ground, in shock.

* * *

Hatake Keiji, master of the Sharingan, wielder of Chidori, Lightning Cutter, and Rasengan.

_Biological son of Hatake Sakura and Uchiha Sasuke_,_ brother of Uchiha Itachi._

Born 4.17.892, brought to village by mother, Hatake Sakura, 5.26.892. Vitals normal for age, born three weeks premature according to Hatake Sakura, confirmed by Godaime Hokage, Senju Tsunade.

Adopted by Hatake Kakashi as son on 5.27.892, one elder sibling Hatake Toshiaki(b. 888), one younger sibling Hatake Kaname (b. 894).

Entered Academy age 4, expedited graduation age 10 (Sharingan manifested 8.04.902, confirmed by Uchiha Itachi), promoted to Chuunin age 13, promoted to Jounin age 19. Sensei: Uchiha Itachi, Uzumaki Naruto.

* * *

The scroll went on to list a number of his accomplishments—and it seemed to indeed wax poetic in places as the ANBU operative analyzed the intricacies of Keiji's reading habits—but Keiji couldn't take it in. He'd always known he was adopted somehow, and after he'd had blood red eyes erupt in his head at age ten he'd known he had a whole crapload of Uchiha blood, but Uchiha Sasuke was an Uchiha completely unknown to him. Keiji knew of his sensei, Itachi, as well as his father's friend Obito, and a few other Uchiha who Itachi would briefly speak of with the slightest tinge of longing in his voice—a man named Fugaku and a woman named Mikoto. If Uchiha Sasuke was anyone of any importance, Itachi would surely have mentioned him—how could Sensei, _Uncle_ apparently, fail to bring up his own _brother?_ He shuddered at the thought—there were very few reasons why a child wouldn't even be told of his biological father's existence, and _all_ of them were bad.

Keiji couldn't—wouldn't believe it. So he stumbled to his feet and reached for his mother's scroll, ripping the tie keeping it shut off almost violently. He had the presence of mind to sit down as he threw it open, the paper making a graceful arc through the air as the far end of the scroll flew into the gloom down the hallway, landing with a clatter of wood and a whisper of paper. The darkness would have made it difficult to read the text, but Keiji's Sharingan had flickered to life the instant his heart rate had skyrocketed earlier. What he read only increased the chant in his head—_no, no, No, no, nooo, no, no, NO-NO-NO-NO_—

* * *

Hatake Sakura, master of Chakra control, specially educated in chakra-based melee attacks as well as medical ninjutsu by Godaime Hokage, Senju Tsunade.

Daughter of Haruno Arata and Haruno Kiku. Wife of Hatake Kakashi (886—present), mother of Hatake Toshiaki, Keiji, and Kaname.

* * *

Keiji skipped the lines that meant nothing to him, and started scanning as fast as he could, looking for the name _Sasuke_ on the scroll. The Sharingan caught the name on the Genin Team Assignment list, and Keiji forced himself to read it, whatever he might find. He'd always known that Mom, Dad, and Uncle Naruto had always been on the same team, and since that made up a three-man cell he'd never questioned. But he'd always been thinking of the wrong cell. This was his mother's Genin cell, teamed with his father, Uncle Naruto, and this mysterious Uchiha Sasuke person. They'd grown up together—and there was a lot of evidence of his mom stalking the Uchiha as a child. But why was he Sasuke's son sandwiched in-between Kakashi's sons?

He started scanning again and found his mother's reaction to Sasuke's apparent betrayal of the village, a blip in her life. Sasuke, the scroll's writer noted dispassionately, had left the village on a quest for power to kill his elder brother Itachi. He blinked away the disbelief which tried to cloud his gaze—he was _not_ crying—and tried to continue down the scroll. He skipped over the account of his mother's romance with his father—Kakashi was still his father, right? Somehow?—as well as their early years together.

That was when he found it. The section was more detailed than the rest, an actual paragraph rather than hard facts and stats.

* * *

Kidnapped by Uchiha Sasuke 6.23.891. Kept sedated and imprisoned as the Uchiha attempted to father a child by her. Kunoichi states she kept herself sane by playing along with what the nukenin wanted from her once he'd succeeded in his initial goal for her. She also attested to continued abuse by the Uchiha, both physical and mental, until very far along in her pregnancy (for result, please refer to Hatake Keiji's personal record). Escaped shortly after son, Keiji, was born, returning to Konoha 5.26.892. Kunoichi admitted to hospital by Godaime Hokage, visited by Hatake Kakashi 5.26.892.

* * *

Keiji's hands were too numb to grasp the scroll any longer, and once it had fallen from his grip his fingers twitched errantly as his mind raced to understand his past, to understand the family around him. His Sharingan spun in rapid circles, making things move at half speed—it felt like he sat there for hours. Hell, he could have actually _been_ there for hours and not even known it. Only when he couldn't see straight for the chakra exhaustion did he force himself to flick the Sharingan off, to close his eyes and wait for the tear trails to dry on his cheeks. His face felt tight, and his head hurt like hell from the chakra he'd expended just sitting and staring in shock.

His watch beeped the alarm—time to get up, try to meet Sensei in an hour to train. He had an hour, and he was pretty sure that the Uchiha clan still had records in this room somewhere. He was pretty _damn_ sure that if they did, there would be a scroll marked Uchiha Sasuke.

The stumbling path he took down the hallway, his mind focused on finding the known whereabouts of the soon-to-be-horribly-murdered Uchiha. Whoever had dared _touch_ his mother was going to _die_, and Keiji could care less about loyalty to the village if he couldn't avenge his mother for what had been done to her. If he needed to leave this very morning he would do it, all he needed as a little pointer on what direction he was taking.

Dust covered most of the scrolls in the Uchiha clan partition, most of them with yellowing white tassels marking _deceased and disposed of_ as the current status of each shinobi. There were only scrolls with red tassels, one for Itachi, his wife Fukiko, and his daughter—_Keiji's cousin_—Chouko. A tiny rational voice in Keiji's mind took heart that the bastard Sasuke was dead, whoever he had been. The majority of Keiji's mind, appeased only slightly, needed at least the record of bloodshed to rest easy.

* * *

Uchiha Sasuke, deceased, traitor against Konoha, former apprentice to Hatake Kakashi, former apprentice and murderer of Orochimaru. Master of the Sharingan. …

* * *

And so it went, but Keiji didn't bother himself with his biological father's violent life. He wanted to know how that diabolical life had ended, and he wanted it to have ended _painfully_.

* * *

…Captured by Hatake Kakashi 11.09.892. Interrogated by Copy Nin for eleven days, executed as traitor to Konoha by Hatake on 11.20.892, confirmation of death and proper ANBU-level disposal of corpse conducted by Uzumaki Naruto (Rokudaime Hokage), on the same day. For further details of interrogation and itemization of crimes confessed to, as well as interrogation methods, refer to S-class mission report scroll 16502-B.

* * *

Keiji giggled irrationally. His father had taken care of it, in much the manner that a calmly insane part of Keiji had been planning on. He didn't go looking for the mission report scroll, he knew enough of his father's nindo to guess what had gone on during that _interrogation. _Those who abandoned their mission were scum. Those who abandoned their comrades were _worse_ than scum. And, the part that few knew of, there was no depth of hell painful or lasting enough for those who harmed a comrade. He rather suspected that the third part of his father's creed referenced what happened to bastards like Uchiha Sasuke.

His watch beeped again—fifteen minutes until he was supposed to meet Sensei to try to catch a little taijutsu practice before they had to pull guard duty over the visiting Kazekage. Not that that crazy old red-head _needed_ guarding.

* * *

He found Itachi sparring with three or four dozen clones of the Rokudaime, Uncle Naruto. They were the only two shinobi in the village who could remotely challenge one another anymore, and this was the kind of antics they got up to early in the day. If he weren't so mentally shaken right now, Keiji would have smiled at the _particularly_ creative way Itachi sliced up one of Naruto's clones.

At the sight of their student's bedraggled appearance—and likely the _smell_ of his earlier tears—both elite fighters paused and approached him. Naruto's face was twisted with concern, Itachi's was blank but his eyes were intense and protective. Keiji wondered for a brief moment if he reminded his sensei—_uncle —_of his dead brother. They looked remarkably alike, if the old photo clipped to Sasuke's personal record was anything to go by.

"Keiji, have you slept? I hope you aren't working too hard at that new job." Naruto, if he was big on anything after ramen, was big on sleep. Keiji shook his head, dazed and wobbly still from staring at a wall all night with his Sharingan engaged.

Itachi kept his own counsel, taking in the details of the dried tear tracks, the rumpled work uniform, the slightest lines of stress around Keiji's eyes. It only took him a moment to piece together his own summation of the horrible night Keiji had had.

"You read your own record last night. Am I wrong?" Naruto's eyes lost their fake playful gleam at Itachi's words, his mouth falling into the stern line which was well known to all residents of Konoha since it had been carved on the mountain next to Tsunade's glower. Keiji didn't have the energy in him to quail at the look his former teachers were giving him.

His silence turned out to be enough of an answer to the two men.

The question his uncle-sensei-uncle—_Sensei_ finally asked him seemed to come out of the blue, and it was almost too much of a turnaround for Keiji's worn mind to handle.

"Would you rather share the legacy of Uchiha Sasuke than that of Hatake Kakashi?" Keiji's eyes flew open wide at the inference that he would rather be like Sasuke than Kakashi—would rather be scum not worthy to rot in hell than to be a shinobi of his father's caliber.

"_Burn in hell, Sensei, _if you can't figure that one out on your _own!_" It was only because he attacked one of the best shinobi in the village that his fist didn't connect with Itachi's face. And _that_ was only because the _other_ best shinobi in the village wrenched him to the ground with a weak chuckle. Keiji raged against Naruto's hold, continuing to yell and spit curses at Itachi as the Uchiha clansman knelt next to where he was pinned. The stressful night, coupled with the chakra exhaustion, caught up to him fast before he managed to truly insult one of his respected teachers in his fury. He let himself go limp, curling up fruitlessly to the ground as he let himself weep—his earlier tears had been those of shock, of hurt, these were sobs to release that last bit of anger he'd held onto to even stumble out to the training grounds. Naruto's hands released him, one moving to rub circles over his shoulder blades.

"Good," Itachi said, "now I don't have to beat you to a pulp and leave you in your mother's garden. Now, take some time to calm down, as long as you need, and then go home and hug your father and kiss your mother for all they've done for you."

Naruto and Itachi had sat with him for awhile before returning to the spar they had put on hold for him, leaving him privacy to work through his emotions. No one would dare enter this training ground when an Uzumaki and an Uchiha were sparring, so no one would see him and his tears (_shinobi rule #25…_). After about an hour he wandered home on less than steady legs, still covered in dust from when he'd been thrown to the ground by the Hokage.

Keiji paused, standing out in the street in the early morning light, to look at the home he'd grown up in. Two stories, with his old bedroom on the east where the sun rose, on the left side of the house, a small garden his mother had kept since he was a boy, and a small porch where his parents would sit together on warm nights. He closed his eyes.

His brothers had skipped out on training, they were fighting over something about breakfast. The sounds of his family filled his ears, muffled by the house.

This was home, he thought, as he felt his mother's chakra signature spike against his own as she headed for the door to drag him inside. He opened his eyes just as she opened the door, and he smiled as he met her bright green eyes and took in her fading pink hair. This was his mother, and just behind her was his father, and his brothers. This was home.

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